The Untameable
by Vmwvi
Summary: This is a wolf oneshot that I wrote a while ago. I decided to publish it at random. Hopefully it will encourage readers of my other story to spare me if I don't miraculously put together a chapter soon.


**Not a word has been changed from when I first wrote it out**.

Author's note: I would like to dedicate this fanfic to exb756. You can check out his/her fanfics. If you enjoyed this read 'The Undying'; I got the idea from that fanfic.

The story of a wolf forced to wander the Overworld, unable to die.

The wolf stood alone in the dead field of withered plants, that had once contained bountiful life, the field he had played in in his youth. He had watched so many people, places and plants wither to old age, but he could not. He couldn't be killed by spitting llamas, polar bears or his own fellow wolves. If he walked into lava or drowned, he wouldn't die, he'd simply feel pain. It was pure torture to be alive. Now, you may ask, what is so bad about spawning immortal? The problem is, though you stay alive, everything else does not. So long had passed since his childhood. He closed his eyes and remembered.

He remembered when he was three, prancing around through the flowers. That was before he realised he was immortal and untameable. He had been so happy. That was before he discovered that flowers could die. He'd been chewing happily on the flowers. That was a long time ago.

He remembered when he was five, meeting the first clan of wolves he had ever met. That was the first contact he ever made with wolves. He had played with the young wolves in their carefree games. That was the day he had discovered friendship.

He remembered when he was ten, when they had taken the pack of wolves he had joined were taken away by gaudy humans waving bones. The young wolves eager for adventure had run so willingly to the adventurers. He remembered how he had run with them. He had been refused, They could not 'tame' him. That was when he had experienced rejection.

He remembered when the gaudy people hit one of the older wolves. The 'tamed' wolves ran forwards, eager to impress their new masters. He watched as they ripped apart the wolf that had once brought them pleasure through stories he had long forgotten. The people killed most of the wolves. That was when he learnt disgust.

He remembered when the people had left, with the wolves trailing behind them with ropes and collars around their necks. He watched as the wolves he had played with following the people blindly, leaving only him behind. That was when he felt loneliness.

He remembered when he was 11, after tracking down his friends, only to watch them being killed by each other, pitted against each other in a sadistic show for the people to watch. As the light left their dying eyes, he had experienced loss.

He remembered people leashing him to a fence and forgetting about him. He had to wait for the wood to rot and the leash to be worn enough to drop off. That was when he had felt impatience.

He remembered the days spent waiting for something to happen, wandering the world, lost, with no home to call his own. He learnt about boredom.

He remembered finding a new pack. He experienced hope.

He remembered being chased out of the area. He had experienced confusion, even as a gaudy human killed all the wolves it could find.

He remembered the human's merciless slaughtering and felt anger.

He remembered it all. He had learnt so many things. He had learnt about suffocation, watching one of the last wolves die as the sadists led it into a cave, leashed, and sand fell, killing the wolf. He had learnt about death, watching others take the toll of time, while he remained. He learnt about pain, suffering countless injuries. Most of all he learnt about the finality of life.

His death was long overdue. It was time to end it all. He was bored, unhappy and lonely, and he would always be. Only in death could he see his friends again. Maybe he could be content with dancing through the flowers once more. He dug his final burrow in the ground, vowing never to return to the surface. He sealed the entrance and lay down, beckoning death to take him.

Epilogue

A thousand years later, the buried remains of an extinct creature called a wolf was found, buried beneath a field of flowers. People can still visit the site where the remains were found; they are still there. If you go to there, you can sometimes hear barking as the ghost of the last wild wolf plays eternally with the flowers.


End file.
